Hunting Down A Suspect

HUNTING DOWN A SUSPECT.

(From the London correspondent of the Dublin Freeman.)

The system of police espionage inaugurated by Mr. Jenkinson since his transfer to the Home Office has its ludicrous aspects. It undoubtedly causes annoyance to inoffensive Irishmen who have business to London occasionally, and who find themselves honoured by the company of a pair of detectives wherever they go to; but upon the other hand, it gives rise to so many comic and laughable incidents that one almost feels inclined to ask whether Mr. Jenkinson does not consider himself in honour bound to give a little pleasant entertainment now and then to the men he selects for persecution. Everyone is acquainted with the case of Mr. P.N. Fitzgerald. Mr. Fitzgerald was kept in prison for seven months upon suspicion of an offence which the Government utterly failed to prove. It might have been thought that seven months' incarceration would have been considered punishment enough for a man who, in the opinion of a Crimes Act jury, was quite innocent. Mr. Jenkinson holds a different view. Mr. Fitzgerald's health was seriously injured while in Sligo Gaol, and soon after his release he went to the South of Europe to try what a milder climate could do to give him back what he had lost. He returned to England a few days ago, his friends will be glad to learn, greatly improved, and the moment he landed at Dover two detectives took him under observation. They rode in the train with him, followed him to his hotel, occupied the same sitting-room, and partook of dinner at the same table. They watched him writing his letters, examined the blotting-paper on which he had dried them after he left, and generally gave him such annoyance that he was obliged to threaten to forcibly resent their insolence if it was continued longer.
On Monday morning Mr. Fitzgerald paid a visit to a friend on the west side of London. He drove in a cab, and was pursued in another by a detective - this time a fresh one from Scotland-yard. He had scarcely been ten minutes upstairs in his friend's house when a loud knock was heard at the door. The servant, upon answering the call, was accosted in a gruff voice by a man outside, who wanted to know "How long the gentleman would be upstairs?" "What gentleman?" she asked. "Mr. Fitzgerald," he replied, "him that went up at this moment." Mr. Fitzgerald and his friend, overhearing the colloquy, resolved to find out what the fellow was about, and asked the servant to show him upstairs. He entered the room smiling. "Look 'ere, Mr. Fitzgerald," he began, "you are annoyed because we are following you. Now, if you go straight from this to your 'otel, I'll undertake to bring your case before Mr. Littlechild at Scotland Yard, and I am sure he will see that you are not annoyed any more." Mr. Fitzgerald, preserving as much gravity as he was able under the circumstances, said he could not give him any advice as to what he should do. All he wanted was not to be dogged about the streets. At this time the joke of the fellow's offer was not seen. If Mr. Fitzgerald had gone straight to his hotel, another detective, who was stationed at the door there, would have "taken him on," and the fellow himself would have been set free for the day. "Now," said Mr. Fitzgerald, resuming the conversation, and continuing to maintain his mock gravity, "do you think Mr. Littlechild would be favourably influenced by your representations?" "I am quite sure he would," replied the detective, with a look of persuasion. Then he began to get warmly sympathetic, and burst out into assurances of the utmost goodwill towards all men, but towards Mr. Fitzgerald in particular. "I will assure you on my 'eart and soul," he said, "I feel deeply for you. No man could stand it. It is really a shaime" (shame). "Then why do you follow me?" demanded Mr. Fitzgerald. "Oh, I've got to do that," he said. "I've got to keep my eyes on you. I've got to report to Scotland Yard everywhere you go to and every 'ouse you henter." "Then I suppose," said Mr. Fitzgerald, "you will have this gentleman (his friend) watched in future?" "That's got nothing to do with me," he promptly replied. "If they want to find out about him they can, but at present all I have got to do is to keep you under hobservation, and it may be a matter of the "sack" to me if I let you get out of sight." Mr. Fitzgerald promised to do his best to accommodate him in that way. "All I 'ope is that you won't cab it the rest of the day." This remark had reference to the difficulty of keeping the subject under investigation in a cab. Mr. Fitzgerald replied that he was afraid he would have to use that means of locomotion. "By the way," said the fellow carelessly as he was about to leave, "had you any of them Irish Constabulary men after you?" "No," replied Mr. Fitzgerald. "They are a bad lot," continued the representative of Mr. Jenkinson, "and I can tell you we have no liking for 'em at all." With this the interview terminated, and the detective after profusely apologising for his intrusion went away.
In half an hour afterwards Mr. Fitzgerald and his friend walked out and found their man pacing the flagway in front of the house. They resolved to hail the first cab they met in order to enable them to keep an appointment at Westminster. There happened to be but one cab in the street at the time, and they got into it and drove off. This put the detective into a most ludicrous dilemma. He looked about in all directions for another vehicle, but not one was to be found. Meanwhile his charge was fast going out of sight, and if he missed him he might, as he said himself, "get the sack." In this emergency he decided to pursue the flying cab on foot, and for five minutes he raced after it in a manner that would have done credit to a champion runner at Lillie Bridge. He then succeeded in getting into another cab, and kept up the pursuit under more comfortable conditions until he saw Mr. Fitzgerald and his friend alight. During the remainder of the day Mr. Fitzgerald was followed by at least six different detectives, who handed him over from one to another as he went to different parts of the city, and finally, on his departure for Liverpool in the evening, two more of them were put upon his track, and kept him company in the same compartment during his journey northward.

Source: New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIII, Issue 6, 29 May 1885, Page 9